The Golden Scar
The fluorescent lights in Sector 4 hummed with a frequency that drilled into Elias Thorne’s teeth, a low, persistent buzz that seemed to vibrate directly against the gold chain resting against his sternum. He sat on the cold steel bench, his hands cuffed behind his back, watching the dust motes dance in the harsh white glare. The automated voice crackled over the intercom, devoid of inflection,...
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